Family
by Coyoyotie
Summary: In which the Potter-Weasley family isn't what it says on the tin. Sensitive topic challenge; domestic abuse, AlbusSeverus/Scorpius friendship, one-shot.


I have no ownership of Harry Potter; I just play with the characters for no personal gain.  
Warnings include abuse and a little Ginny bashing.

Topic: domestic abuse  
Prompts: phone call (changed to Floo call), rewind, bar

* * *

**They thought they were being** quiet, but they weren't.

At the top of the stairs, just out of sight from the living room, Albus Severus shuddered with fear as he stared unblinkingly at the wall before him. Hiding his face in his knees would only bring the beginnings of nightmares, when his imagination would give him horrifying previews of what he knows is happening downstairs every night – the same events that everyone ignores.

As if he could _pretend_, though, that the sharp clap was just his father apparating in from work, as if he'd got a Floo call earlier and had rushed off to save someone and was now returning, heroic.

As if it wasn't the sound of flesh against flesh.

The quiet padding of his older brother came from behind, and he felt the warmth of the fifth year pressing against his side as he settled on the step as well.

"You shouldn't listen," Jamie whispered, as he did every night, knowing that it would have no effect. How could any child sleep through that?

"Is Lily asleep?" Albus Severus knew the answer already; it never changed. Lily slept like the dead, the lucky bugger.

"Yeah." The whole conversation was rehearsed nightly, and they barely paid attention to their own words that slipped out automatically. Albus Severus never even stuttered through the well-known lines.

It was silent for five minutes, until the expected hissing came from below them. It didn't matter how they spoke the words, in Albus Severus' opinion – they'd always be the same volume, with the same harshness. He didn't think Lily had ever seen their parents talk nicely together within their home.

Tonight, the topic was their dad's orphanage and war orphan charity.

"You never spend any time at home – they're your kids as well, you know! Why should I have to do all the work whilst you're swanning around, throwing money at people?"

"At _orphans_, Ginevra. The homeless, motherless children who would be thrown to the streets or abusive Muggles without my orphanage!"

"Of course, I'm sure there're no magical families willing to take in a kid –"

Their dad was always beyond furious when she spoke against his work. He had refused the Auror job, but kept in close contact with the Head of the department, who often called on him if they found an abandoned or orphaned child during a raid. Harry Potter didn't want anyone else to grow up as he did, after all.

His reply grew in severity, slipping through his gritted teeth in a mix between growling and Parseltongue, but lowered enough that the two siblings couldn't quite make out the words.

A second later, an almighty smash made Jamie jump, his hand going to his wand holster involuntarily. It was high pitched, and there were quiet sounds of tinkling straight after – a vase or plate gone, then.

In the morning, Harry would grimace and chuckle awkwardly about his clumsiness; not only had he tripped and whacked his cheek on a table, but it had knocked an antique into the wall at the same time. "_Silly me."_

Another reason their mum didn't like the orphanage work was that a main funder to the charity was Draco Malfoy, who had inherited the family fortune from his parents when they retired to France (to avoid publicity, no doubt). Ginny had always had an absurd hatred for the Malfoy family, though she wouldn't tell Albus Severus the reason even though his best friend was the young heir, Scorpius.

In fact, his being friends with Scorpius only made the subject more of a sore spot for her. When he came over to the Potter Cottage for dinner – never, ever for nights – Ginny would always be busy helping a friend or visiting her parents for tea.

They knew she was really at the bar. They didn't say anything.

**At Hogwarts, Jamie would rush** off to his two Gryffindor best friends and he'd prank the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs to forget about his nights at home. In contrast, Albus Severus would huddle with Scorpius under their blue bed hangings and talk about everything that happened, and Scorpius would reassure him and then distract him with some new book on Spell-Crafting.

Sometimes it was an especially bad holiday, and the pair would sit up for hours so Albus Severus could get it out of his system. It took longer if his stutter acted up, because Scorpius wanted to hear the whole story so he had to pause, calm down, and repeat himself.

Christmas times were the worst for the Potter siblings. It was always _family time_, which never went well no matter the time of year, and they'd mostly go to the main Weasley house where the entire family would meet up on special occasions. It was the worst because Ginny and Harry would sit arm-in-arm as if they were happy together, but the kids could tell Ginny wanted to lift her glass into her husband's face and that Harry didn't agree whatsoever with the crap his wife had just spewed. But they nodded along and smiled at each other, because Christmas time had to be perfect, because there were so few perfect times after the war.

"I asked dad why he l-let mum hit him and throw th-things a-at him," said Albus Severus from Scorpius' bed in January of their fourth year.

His blonde friend turned from his unpacking to peer attentively at the shy, green-eyed boy.

"H-he said that he d-deserves it. Because of the w-w-war."

"You know that's not true, Albus Severus." Scorpius was the first to call him by both his names, and he quite liked it. His dad heard it when they met the Malfoys at the orphanage fundraiser that one time, and noticed his smile and began calling him Albus Severus as well.

Jamie just didn't suit a formal name like _James_. His middle name was _Sirius_, which he almost never was.

"I said th-that, and he said he didn't want to b-break up-p the f-family."

"Merlin, what did you say?" Scorpius loved his Albus Severus, really, but sometimes his honesty had faults.

The reply was whispered; "That we didn't have a family."

It was silent again, and Scorpius absentmindedly folded his spare set of winter robes before placing them in his wardrobe. It was their Thursday free period and they hadn't yet received too much homework.

"Jamie agreed with m-me."

"He was there? Good. What did Harry say?" Scorpius rarely admitted that he liked Jamie, since befriending one Potter-Weasley was enough, let alone one that spent his spare (and study) time pranking.

"Dad said that he w-wished he could rewind t-time, and that he loves us. A-and he said that mum was j-just sad b-but –"

The Malfoy heir sighed sharply. "But that's not an excuse, and she's just a bitch but he doesn't know what to do. I wish we could rewind time, too. Or just travel back. Where would you go back to?"

"M-maybe the founders' time," he replied softly. "We could l-learn so much from them."

"I could go with that. Imagine helping to build the school – we could write our names in the wet cement, or a penis –"

By then, Albus Severus was relaxing from the tension and cackling with laughter. "N-no way, Scorpius! You'd be caught by _R-Rowena Ravenclaw!_ Or maybe Salazar!"

"Pfft, admit it; you'd be helping me."

"M-m-maybe!" He was now giggling girlishly and could barely get a word out, nervous stutter or not.

Satisfied at the happier mood, Scorpius flopped down beside Albus Severus' quivering form and smiled.

"Oh, hey, have you got any further with the Animagus meditation and whatnot?"

"I'm almost ready. Y-you?"

"Same, and I got hold of the book with the potions that we'll need. I'll Owl-Order the extra ingredients this weekend and we can start trying to transform."

"I c-can't wait! I bet you're some prissy, exotic bird!"

Elsewhere in the castle, Jamie set off a series of timed Portable Swamps just as class let out.

**For now, all thoughts of** parental instability were pushed to the back of their minds, a hidden box opened briefly only when they received letters from home, separate letters from each parent. It would open fully the next time they were at the cottage, when the two boys would make sure their sister is asleep before sitting on the top step to listen.

They would listen every night if they had to, waiting for the words that would finally signify peace.

It's not often that children _really_ hate a parent, but for the Potter family at least, those words – "Just get out! Leave!" – would be the most welcome.


End file.
